


Giving Chocolate

by courtingstars (FallingSilver)



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Boys Kissing, Chapter One Is So Shoujo, Chocolate, Demisexual Akashi, Dorks in Love, Fluff and Angst, Hopelessly Dorky Couple, I'm Sorry, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Valentine's Day Fluff, White Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-18 12:26:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7315189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallingSilver/pseuds/courtingstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The first year, Furihata almost burned down his family’s kitchen."</p>
<p>For their first Valentine's Day together, Furihata makes Akashi a batch of homemade chocolate. Akashi decides to reciprocate—and comes to a few realizations in the process. (Will eventually be a multi-chapter story. Summary to be updated later!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Giving Chocolate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cerberos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerberos/gifts).



> This is a shamefully late gift for [cerberosthehellguard](http://cerberosthehellguard.tumblr.com), for the AkaFuri Secret Valentine exchange on Tumblr. The first chapter of this fic is a standalone one-shot, but it will eventually be a much longer story. (... That spans decades, because I'm always biting off more than I can chew, apparently.) It connects to my other AkaFuri fics, such as [The Fast Train to Kyoto](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5035684/chapters/11575831), so it contains mild spoilers for what will happen in the future of that timeline.
> 
> (Speaking of which, The Fast Train to Kyoto is next on my to-do list, because I know a lot of people are still waiting for the next chapter! Thanks so much for your patience, while I continue to deal with real life.)

The first year, Furihata almost burned down his family’s kitchen.

He should have known, he thought grimly, as he surveyed the charred mess of chocolate swirled with fire extinguisher foam. He wasn’t a bad cook, most of the time. In fact, he was probably the best in his family, next to his mom.

But whenever Furihata attempted to make something for Akashi Seijuurou, it always turned into some bizarre disaster. Probably because he was trying way too hard. Psyching himself out. The usual dumb crap.

Not that he could help it, really. Feeling some pressure was kind of inevitable, when you were dating a guy like Akashi.

Yeah, dating. Furihata began his first year of high school really hoping to get a girlfriend. Now he was in his second year, sort-of-secretly-but-not-really dating the most amazing person he had ever met. Who was also a guy.

Life was pretty weird sometimes.

Furihata spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning up the kitchen. His whole family saw the mess. His mom took pity on him (after freaking out a little) and went to the store to buy more chocolate, so he could try again. His dad tried to be encouraging, and said, “Well, at least you didn’t hurt yourself.” His older brother just laughed himself hoarse, as usual.

Furihata made the three of them swear not to tell anyone. Which lasted an hour. Then he started getting a storm of texts from his Seirin buddies, cracking jokes about how he was being a clumsy girlfriend, and stuff like, “Look dude, we know how much you want to impress His Highness the Absolute, but don’t you think having to call the fire department is too far?”

At which point Furihata panicked, because _what the heck how did they even know_. Then he remembered his brother’s Twitter habit, and cursed fate and the universe for giving him a loud-mouthed sibling who thought it was hilarious to tell the world, including his teammates, about “a certain someone’s failed attempts to woo a hot redhead.”

(And oh god could that possibly be more _embarrassing_? His brother would not let up about the fact that Akashi was “weirdly pretty for a dude.” Not to mention how his brother supposedly knew right away, as in months before Furihata did, that Furihata was attracted to him. Which was just about a million levels of why.)

Eventually the kitchen was clean again. (Well, sort of.) Furihata tackled his second attempt at the chocolate, with even more concentration than the first. Checking and double-checking the recipe, and using multiple food thermometers, in case one of them was off by a few degrees. His brother would not stop popping in to tease him. Even a ladle chucked at his head wasn’t enough to scare him off. Finally their mom dragged him away, much to Furihata’s relief.

It was midnight when Furihata finally collapsed onto a kitchen chair. The chocolate had made it safely into the fridge. It was a little on the lumpy side, not that pretty. But at least the stuff hadn’t separated or gone all chalky (or, you know, spontaneously burst into flames).

Furihata tried to imagine what would happen, when he gave his gift to Akashi. Each possibility made his face blaze. Some of them were embarrassing in a good way—others, not so much. Furihata really hoped Akashi would like the chocolate. But what if it tasted lousy? He had tested it over and over. But maybe Akashi was pickier about chocolate than he was. Or maybe this whole thing was just too weird. Maybe, maybe…

As nervous as he was, though, Furihata found himself looking forward to it. That was the thing about dating a guy like Akashi Seijuurou.

No matter how nervous he got, it was always wonderful.

The next morning, Furihata cut the chocolate into squares, and arranged them all inside a red cardboard box. He wrapped it up in a furoshiki cloth, with an ice pack tucked into the folds. Then he headed out the door, heart pounding in time with his hurried steps.

Furihata wondered if his heart would ever stop pounding, when it was time to see Akashi. He was starting to feel like that would take a million years to actually happen.

Akashi was waiting for him, when he arrived at the café where they were having lunch. (He was always there first, even when Furihata was really early.) He greeted Furihata with a brilliant smile— _the_ smile—that made Furihata’s insides feel like that mess he made on the stove the day before. All warm and melted, and sort of dangerously scorched around the edges.

They were fifteen minutes into lunch when Akashi politely asked about the wrapped bundle, and whether it was some sort of bento. At which point Furihata couldn’t stand the wait any longer, even though they were in public and he had planned to give the chocolate to Akashi later. He stammered something about how “It’s for you, and really not that great, but I hope it’s okay because I wanted to do it myself and anyway _here_ ,” and thrust the bundle across the table.

Akashi took it, apparently confused enough that he didn’t bother with the whole “Oh no I couldn’t, I simply can’t accept this gift” Japanese manners thing.

He opened the box, and stared at what was inside. He looked up at Furihata. Then back down at the box.

“Furihata-kun,” he murmured.

Furihata gulped.

“Is this…?” Akashi looked strangely torn, like he couldn’t decide whether to smile or frown. Which freaked Furihata out, until he added, “Thank you, very much. But I didn’t bring anything for you today. I’m terribly sorry. How thoughtless of me.”

“Oh! I mean, no. Don’t worry about that.” Furihata laughed, as the tight feeling in his chest eased. “I get why you didn’t think of it. It’s seriously fine. I mean, neither one of us is, you know…”

He didn’t have to finish the sentence. Akashi would know what he meant.

Neither one of them was a girl.

Girls were the ones who were supposed to give chocolate to everybody on Valentine’s Day. Not guys. And it was always a one-sided thing. (Although who really knew what the rules were, when you were a guy dating another guy?)

“It’s over a week early anyway,” he added. “I just figured I should give it to you now, since you can’t come to Tokyo next week. And I’m busy with practice.”

“So that’s why you asked,” Akashi said in a soft voice. He shook his head. “I’m appalled at my oversight. I ought to do better with this sort of thing.”

“But you already do!” Furihata insisted, even as his face started to warm up. “You’re unreal. At _all_ of this. You’re way better than I am. Like on Christmas... I’ll never be able to pay you back for all that. The least I could do is make you some messed-up chocolate.” He choked out a laugh.

“Still, I really should have done something.” Akashi examined the box again, with his keen eyes. He raised a brow. “And I’m not at all certain what you mean by ‘messed-up.’ These look wonderful.”

Furihata was torn between an increasing urge to hide under the table—he couldn’t help it, with that last blush-inducing word echoing in his brain—or just roll his eyes. Because there Akashi went again, being inexplicably blind about things.

“They’re not even decorated,” he said. “B-but they should taste okay. Uh. I hope? That’s what I was going for.”

Akashi took one of the chocolate squares from the box. He balanced it delicately between his fingertips—Furihata still didn’t know he was so darn _graceful_ about everything—and took a bite. His catlike eyes widened.

“It’s delicious.” He licked his lips. “You made this?”

“Y-yeah. It’s just chocolate and cream. You know, nama chocolate? It’s pretty easy to make. Um. I… I’m glad you like it.”

“I like it a great deal,” Akashi said, and he took another bite.

Furihata’s head was starting to feel so hot he was kind of dizzy. Because Akashi was giving him that look again. The one with the smile that spread all the way up to his eyes, until those bright red irises caught the sunlight spilling into the café and just sort of _glowed_.

It was surreal. It felt like an illusion, honestly. Because Furihata couldn’t deny the emotion he saw written all over Akashi’s face. That earnest, sincere affection. But it still seemed so, well…

Impossible.

Sometimes Furihata wondered if this was all some kind of weirdly long dream. And he wondered how he would feel, when he eventually woke up.

“Thank you,” Akashi said, in that gentle voice that always made Furihata feel like his entire body was turning to liquid. “But if I accept this, you must allow me to give you something in return.”

“Oh, um, well… o-okay…” Furihata knew he wasn’t thinking clearly, but his dumb brain started cranking through the possibilities anyway, trying to figure out what Akashi meant. “Um, so, what were you thinking you’d…?”

He couldn’t finish. His palms were sweating a little.

The truth was, Furihata was imagining Akashi kissing him. Later, when they were alone. Maybe light and sweet, the way Akashi did it the most often. On the forehead, or the corner of Furihata’s mouth. Or maybe it would be a different kind of kiss, with shared breath and warm lips moving in a soft rhythm, and maybe, just maybe…

Maybe they would do what they had been doing lately, and start kissing harder and then slowly part their mouths, until they could taste each other, _and Akashi would still taste like chocolate_ …

“I’m not certain,” Akashi said. “But I do have a month to decide. It will need to be a surprise, of course.”

Furihata’s train of thought jolted to a stop.

“A month?” he repeated, blinking.

“Yes.” Akashi looked at him. His brows were slightly pinched. “For White Day.”

“Oh! Oh, uh, right. Yeah. White Day. S-sure.” Furihata resisted the urge to fling his head down onto the table. Obviously that was what Akashi meant. He should have known. (And he would have, probably, if his imagination hadn’t been so busy getting carried away again…)

“That’s the proper way to repay you, isn’t it?” Akashi gave a smiling nod to the box. “For this.”

“Uh, yes. It is. Very, err… proper.” Furihata flinched a little. Akashi was always that last thing, for sure. While he apparently wasn’t.

(He wished he could stop thinking about that kind of stuff so much… When they became friends, Furihata had finally started to relax around Akashi. But now they were dating, and Furihata was acting like a doofus again, and embarrassing himself, all because he kept spacing out with these… _thoughts_. He knew Akashi didn’t have that problem.)

“And if I remember correctly, the White Day gift should always exceed the Valentine’s gift in value,” Akashi added.

Mischief was already flickering in those catlike eyes. Furihata frowned.

“Yeah, but it’s only supposed to be three times as much. That cost a thousand yen, tops.” He could tell Akashi was about to object, so he added, “Including the box. And the handkerchief. And the ice pack.”

(He avoided adding a fire extinguisher, a melted spatula, a blackened potholder, and two bottles of cleaner to the list. Akashi didn’t need to know about that stuff.)

Akashi sighed. “Very well. I will keep that in mind.”

“Thanks,” Furihata said, with a grateful look. He added cheerfully, “I really like your gifts, by the way! And I know how much you like giving them. So it’s not like I want you to stop or anything. It’s just, well…”

His voice got quieter. He forced himself to keep looking at Akashi, instead of the tablecloth.

“The list is getting kind of long, you know?” he said, with a half-smile. “Of all the amazing stuff you’ve done for me. Even before we started, um, you know… _this_.” He gestured vaguely between them. “And I’ll never be able to pay you back.”

Akashi was silent for a moment. His gaze was a little distant, as though he was weighing these words inside his mind.

“But you have repaid me.” He sounded almost perplexed. “And you continue to do so, on a daily basis. With your time, your encouragement, and your affections, among many other things. I don’t believe such a disparity exists.”

“Yeah, like you never do any of that stuff.” Furihata shook his head. He made sure to add, “Thanks, though. I’m glad all of that means so much to you. And I feel the same way, you know? Like it would be okay if you didn’t get me a gift sometimes. You could just do the other things. I m-mean, it’s up to you, s-so…”

And now he was blushing again. Great. Did his brain really have to go _there_ again, when Akashi probably didn’t mean anything physical by “affections”?

Akashi didn’t seem to notice (even though Furihata’s face had to be the color of burning coals by now). Wordlessly, he glanced out the window, at the crowded sidewalks and the bare-branched trees, glazed with sunshine. He gave a slow nod.

“I understand.” He smiled at Furihata. “And thank you. To echo your words, I’m glad to know you place such a high value on my companionship.”

Furihata had to resist the urge to laugh. Because that was putting it mildly.

_Trust me, I do_ _… I pretty much never stop thinking about you._

It was weird, Furihata thought, how Akashi never picked up on that. Or he didn’t seem to know how true it was, anyway. Just another thing Akashi was inexplicably blind about. Even though he was so good at seeing everything else.

“I hope it’s also acceptable that I place a high value on your cooking,” Akashi said, lifting another square of chocolate from the box. “These truly are delicious.”

“R-really?” Furihata couldn’t help admiring that look of genuine pleasure on Akashi's face, as he took another bite. Furihata's heart stuttered inside his chest. In moments like this, he was reminded all over again just how _handsome_ Akashi was. With his fine-boned features and elegant posture, and those piercing red eyes.

Furihata was also reminded of how happy Akashi seemed lately. It wasn’t just his imagination, he knew. Other people who knew Akashi really well had noticed. It was there in his face, and his voice—a lightness, a warmth that was practically tangible.

There were plenty of reasons why. Renewed friendships, the most recent basketball season. A certain street ball match the previous summer, that left Akashi more at peace with himself than ever. And sometimes, when Akashi looked at him that way, Furihata liked to think that maybe their relationship was a reason for it too.

No matter the reason, Akashi was never more impossibly good-looking than when he was happy.

“As you well know, I only speak the truth,” Akashi was saying. “I would be delighted to receive these every year.”

Furihata’s stomach fluttered. He ducked his head.

“You would?” he said. Mostly because he didn’t know what else to say.

“I certainly would,” Akashi said, as he took another bite.

Furihata’s mouth stretched even wider at the corners. It was nice when Akashi said things like that. He let himself imagine it, for a while. Making chocolate for Akashi, year after year. Like when they were older and in college and everything. Maybe even after that.

It was silly, though. High school couples rarely stayed together that long. Even the stereotypical ones. And there were other complications in this case. They were both guys, sure. But way more importantly…

More importantly, one of them was Akashi Seijuurou.

Emphasis on the Akashi.

But Furihata had known that from the start. He didn’t let himself worry about their future, because he already had a pretty good idea how it would turn out. In the end, all that mattered was enjoying the time they had together. No matter how short it happened to be.

So Furihata just sat and enjoyed the bright look on Akashi’s face, and how it sent happiness bubbling through him, like the melon soda he kept stirring because he was way too giddy to actually drink it. Just basking in the warmth of the present—and ignoring the future that edged just past his consciousness, that wavered and bobbed like dappled shadows in the sun.

And later, when they were walking close together on an empty street, and Akashi slipped his long fingers in between Furihata’s, and they walked with their joined hands hidden between the folds of their winter coats, Furihata didn’t worry at all.

He just thought how lucky he was, for even half a year, to have dated someone as kind and amazing as Akashi Seijuurou.

* * *

The first year, Akashi faced a puzzling conundrum.

He needed to decide what to buy Furihata Kouki for White Day. To devise the ideal gift, in return for the chocolate his boyfriend gave to him. Akashi knew the usual custom of the holiday: purchase something two to three times the cost of the chocolate, and preferably white in color.

There was just one problem, Akashi thought, as he eyed the red cardboard box formerly filled with chocolate. He licked the final traces of the sugary, milky brown substance from his fingertips. (He was alone in his bedroom, so he was reluctant to waste any of it, purely for the sake of manners.) The problem was straightforward enough, but it seemed insurmountable.

For how could Akashi hope to find a gift that cost three times as much, if the original gift happened to be priceless?

He already knew the chocolate’s ingredients were inexpensive. Furihata had told him as much. Still, this chocolate was far more than the sum of its parts, in Akashi’s estimation. It truly was delicious, for one thing. Akashi knew himself to be particular about confections of this nature, and yet he had savored every square. Each bite was creamy, smooth, and meltingly sweet.

More than that, Furihata had made it for him. With obvious care, and affection. The thought made every taste even sweeter.

Akashi couldn’t possibly put a price on that.

He sighed, with mingled contentment and confusion, and leaned back in his armchair. Once again, he found himself at a loss, as to how to show Furihata the depth of his gratitude. His first impulse was to think of something extravagant, a gift so grand there could be no doubt as to its sincerity.

But he quelled the thought. He had no wish to make Furihata uncomfortable. More than anything, Akashi was determined to follow the proper protocol. To be a normal boyfriend, the sort that wouldn’t embarrass his significant other, or cause him any measure of worry or distress.

Unfortunately, this was turning out to be a far more complicated business than Akashi had ever expected. His friends were constantly having to warn him, about how various gestures might be perceived as “intimidating” or “too much too soon.” Even with all their warnings, Akashi still had the impression that he wasn’t the normal boyfriend he strived to be.

The trouble, he supposed, was that he wasn’t especially adept at being “normal” in the first place.

… Or perhaps more accurately, that his personal standard of “normal” consisted of being a member of an exceptionally prestigious family, the sole heir to a massive conglomerate, and never losing at anything.

Still, Akashi tried. It was surprisingly difficult. It might have been easier if he didn’t care for Furihata so deeply. As it was, it was something of a strain to suppress the ever-present urge to shower his boyfriend in gifts, or write him tome after tome of letters baring his innermost soul.

(He still penned letters to Furihata, on occasion. But he’d gathered from his teammates that this indulgence treaded dangerously close to odd. So he kept the letters brief. Or he tried, at least… He had a nagging feeling he did not entirely succeed at that, either. Was fifteen handwritten pages really so long, if he was aiming to express what one of the most important people in his life meant to him?)

Yet even when Akashi surrendered to his most excessive impulses, he couldn’t recall Furihata ever responding negatively. Instead Furihata always smiled, and thanked him—or, if the gesture was lavish enough, he would stare, with his small brown eyes widening in wonder. Whenever Furihata’s face lit up like that, Akashi only found it harder to resist the urge to overdo everything. In those moments, Furihata looked angelic.

And Akashi always, without fail, wanted very much to kiss him.

A shiver tripped over Akashi’s skin. He closed his eyes, and let himself imagine it. The softness of Furihata’s lips, their sweet warmth that was becoming so familiar to him… Yet somehow, the more familiar it grew, the more it made Akashi’s heartbeat quicken, and blood drum through his veins.

It was curious. Akashi had never felt particularly drawn to the idea of kissing before. He liked the concept in theory, he supposed, but he didn’t fantasize about it. Even when he started dating Furihata, the physical aspect of their relationship didn’t matter to him nearly as much as the emotional one.

But lately, it was as if he had begun to crave it… Furihata’s embrace, the pressure of those lean, toned arms winding around Akashi’s back and shoulders. And a pair of thin, soft lips, moving eagerly against his…

Akashi let out a breath. He felt oddly warm, suddenly. He shifted in his armchair, forcing himself to return to his original train of thought. (Curious, too, how these daydreams were starting to intrude more and more, when it was normally so easy for him to focus.)

Akashi ticked through all the most common White Day gifts inside his mind. Chocolate was the most typical choice, and marshmallows were the original confectionary of the holiday. Both seemed rather obvious. Flowers and jewelry were more costly options, but they had certain gendered connotations and would require careful thought. Akashi wanted all the gifts he gave Furihata to feel personalized to him—rather than a nod to some standard expectation of “romance.”

Not to mention there was the issue of overspending to consider. Akashi frowned, recalling their conversation at the café. Furihata had said more than once that he didn’t mind receiving gifts. But Akashi wanted to do what would please Furihata most, not what he would accept.

_“It would be okay if you didn’t get me a gift sometimes. You could just do the other things.”_

Akashi understood the sentiment. He certainly treasured the time he spent with Furihata, far more than any material gift. He supposed he could always devise some interesting way for them to spend time together. Something that required reservations or tickets... But that still involved spending money. His gaze wandered down to the empty box at his side.

Perhaps the best solution was the simplest one.

Akashi rose to retrieve his phone. Upon opening his contact list, he scrolled down, until he reached the number of one Mibuchi Reo.

… Which was how three weeks later, Akashi found himself inside the massive Akashi family kitchen. He was memorizing a series of instructions, with the sort of care he normally reserved for topics that were likely to be on national exams, or the finer points of etiquette, or basketball strategies.

“Chocolate can be touchy,” Mibuchi informed him. “Any moisture and it seizes—becomes a grainy mess, essentially. And you’ll have to watch for overheating. White chocolate can’t top forty-three degrees. Do you have a candy thermometer, Sei-chan?”

The kitchen had several of them, as it turned out, though Akashi had to inquire as to their location. (Fortunately, the kitchen staff seemed to find this whole exercise charming, rather than disruptive.) He also unearthed a double boiler, and the other necessary equipment.

“You seem well-versed in this process, as I expected,” he said to Mibuchi, as he began chopping the white chocolate into small pieces. “Is it a family recipe?”

“No, none of us are chocolatiers.” Mibuchi’s gentle voice lilted with laughter. His family owned a traditional Japanese-style sweets company in Kyoto, where he had acquired his candy-making abilities. “This is just the most common way. My mother showed me how to do it when I was younger. Some very sweet girls had given me chocolate, and I wanted to return the favor. Friendship chocolate, of course.”

“Mm.” Akashi glanced sideways at his former teammate. He couldn’t help wondering if the chocolate in question had really been motivated by friendship. Mibuchi was beautiful, after all, and while plenty of people were aware of his romantic preferences, not everyone was. “Well, thank you for taking the time out of your day to teach me. I hope I won’t be too difficult a student.”

Mibuchi raised a perfectly trimmed brow. He seemed to be eyeing Akashi’s hands, the rhythmic movements of the knife. “Somehow I doubt that’s possible.”

“Confident in your teaching abilities, it seems.”

Mibuchi snorted, but made no further reply. Akashi continued with the recipe, pouring cream into the boiler pan. Just before the cream came to a boil, he removed it from the burner, and stirred in the chocolate shavings. He questioned Mibuchi all the while, about the best way to do each step.

Soon Akashi had poured the chocolate into two heart-shaped molds—a large one and a much smaller one—and put them in the walk-in refrigerator. He then repeated the entire process, twice.

“I’m not sure I understand the logic,” Mibuchi said, lips pursed. “You did everything well the first time.”

“I want to put my utmost effort into this,” Akashi said. “It is White Day, after all. My return gift needs to have the proper value. ”

“Ah, I understand.” Mibuchi smiled. “That’s sweet, Sei-chan.”

“I could never measure the worth of Furihata-kun’s efforts,” Akashi added, stirring the final batch of chocolate. “Still, the least I can do is put in three times the usual amount of work. It’s something I can do, without spending money.” He paused. “I did splurge a bit when I sourced the chocolate, admittedly.”

Mibuchi’s eyes twinkled beneath his thick lashes. “Not to mention by recruiting my expertise.”

Akashi nodded. “I need someone qualified to be the final judge. You will have to tell me which batch is superior, once they’re finished.”

Soon all three batches of chocolate were safely tucked away in the refrigerator. Akashi then invited his former teammate to stay for tea. They talked for hours, about the university Mibuchi was preparing to attend, and the progress of the new Rakuzan team. Later, they returned to the refrigerator to inspect the chocolate. Akashi removed three pieces from the smaller molds, and offered them to Mibuchi.

“Hmm.” Mibuchi tasted each one, and tasted them again. “I think the last one is the best, all around.”

“Excellent.” Akashi removed the large hearts from their molds, and filled a pastry bag with red frosting. He practiced writing kanji on the first two, and finished with the third heart, decorating the words with a border of curling lines.

“Does this pass final inspection?” He presented the decorated heart to Mibuchi, who gave an approving nod.

_(For Mibuchi’s part, he was impressed, but not surprised. The chocolate was exceptionally made, for an amateur. If he hadn’t known, he would have assumed a professional cook made it. Still, even in the final selection, Mibuchi could see a handful of mistakes. A very slight chalkiness in one section, some variations in the thickness of the lettering. Furihata wouldn’t notice, for many reasons._

_Still, Mibuchi diligently noted each error, and filed them away with all the things that made Akashi less than truly perfect. He kept them for the day Furihata would need to hear them. Because there would certainly come a day when a boy like Furihata Kouki would need to hear them, and Mibuchi had vowed long ago to be ready for it.)_

Satisfied with his efforts, Akashi returned the chocolate to the refrigerator. He and Mibuchi then said their farewells. Akashi spent the rest of his evening thinking about his plans for the next day. Anticipating, preparing… And indulging in those oddly intrusive thoughts, about how Furihata would look, and what he might say, and the things they would do when they were together.

The next day was clear, with a sparkling chill in the air. Akashi arrived in Tokyo, and waited for Furihata at the train station. He was ahead of schedule, of course. (It was a secret goal of his, to never keep his boyfriend waiting.)

Furihata arrived a few minutes later, and Akashi’s heart skipped at the sight of him. The March breeze was tousling Furihata’s flyaway hair. His open coat flapped about him, revealing the sweatshirt and faded jeans underneath it. His thin nose was pink, whether due to the hurried pace he kept, or the cold.

He looked, well… There really was no other word for it…

Adorable.

Akashi was aware that Furihata’s appearance was somewhat unremarkable, in many people’s eyes. He once had a similar impression—but that seemed ages ago. Now he couldn’t see anything but how attractive Furihata was, from his slim, fit build, to his uncommonly expressive face. Furihata’s features had a transparent quality to them, showing all his emotions with startling clarity. His face was unguarded, sincere.

To Akashi, it made him heartstoppingly attractive.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Furihata said, as he came to a rushed halt before him. “Again. You always beat me.”

Akashi shook his head. “As I’ve said before, it’s no trouble. I always schedule my transportation to allow for delays.”

“Yeah, you’re the only guy I know who does that.” Furihata gave a breathless laugh. “So where are we going? And what’s with the basket?”

Akashi glanced down at the wicker basket he held. He met Furihata’s curious gaze with a smile. “You’ll see very soon.”

“I figured,” Furihata said, grinning back. “You and your surprises.”

“This one isn’t particularly elaborate.” Akashi spoke with a certain amount of hesitance. “I’m not sure if it even qualifies as a surprise.”

Furihata looked at Akashi, blinking slowly, and Akashi knew he was trying to read him. (An attempt to determine the nature of the surprise, perhaps… Akashi knew his boyfriend wasn’t the sort of person who liked to feel unprepared.) He shrugged a little.

“Guess we’ll see.” He came up alongside Akashi. “I’m not that hard to surprise, though.”

“I have noticed that.”

They traded smiles again, and Akashi led the way down the sidewalk. They strolled elbow to elbow. Furihata tucked his hands into his coat pockets, and Akashi found himself wishing he could hold Furihata’s hand—but on a crowded Tokyo street, he couldn’t quite justify it.

This was an unfamiliar feeling for Akashi. To long to do something that did not follow society’s rules, that went against certain ideas about obligation and decency. He had never understood why it was becoming more common for couples in Japan to show their affections in public, when it clearly bothered some people. Why couldn’t such couples wait until a more appropriate time? What made them so impatient?

Lately, however, Akashi was beginning to feel a little of that impatience himself.

They soon arrived at their destination, and Furihata looked all around. His face brightened, and Akashi knew he recognized the place.

“Hanegi Park?” Furihata’s voice was cheerful. “So we’re here for the plum blossoms?”

Hundreds of plum trees filled the park grounds. Clouds of white and reddish pink flowers bobbed upon their branches. Visitors were ambling along the walkways, taking photos of the flowers with phones and cameras.

“It’s old-fashioned, I know.” Akashi tightened his grip on the basket. “But the weather’s been pleasant, and the crowds are smaller than at a cherry blossom viewing. I thought it might be nice to have some privacy.”

Furihata glanced at him, then looked away again. Akashi thought in passing that his boyfriend’s expression was a bit odd… It wasn’t until they were walking again that Akashi realized what the last part of his explanation might have sounded like.

_“Some **privacy**.”_

Akashi meant that it would be nice not to navigate through a crowd. But perhaps it sounded like he was planning something… else.

Furihata’s face was visibly pink. Akashi was rather warm himself. He wanted to say that he didn't mean it that way, and Furihata didn’t need to worry about him doing something, well,  _untoward_. But he didn’t trust himself to speak. Not now, when his thoughts were spinning with all the things Furihata might be worrying about.

They wandered, inspecting the flowers. Akashi couldn’t help but notice their conversation was more stilted than before. (”They’re, um, really pretty.” “Yes. They are.”) Soon they came to a narrow path, with a single line of stepping stones. Akashi nearly rethought his entire plan. But in the end, he led Furihata to an out-of-the-way area of the park.

They stopped beneath a modest cluster of plum trees. Akashi took a cloth sheet from his pocket, unfolded it, and spread it on the cold ground.

“I guess I know what’s in the basket now,” Furihata said, rubbing his fingers together and blowing on them a little.

“Yes, I expect so,” Akashi replied, with measured calmness.

He held out a hand warmer, which Furihata took with a grateful smile. He then opened the basket, and took out a pair of sitting cushions. He set them down, and arranged a series of lacquered wood containers between them.

“It’s not especially creative,” he added.

Furihata laughed. “I think your standards for creativity are a lot higher than most people’s. Also, you know, in general.”

He settled onto a cushion, with one of those friendly looks that always made Akashi feel more at ease. So Akashi joined him, and began opening the bento containers.

“The lunch is on the simple side,” he said. “I hope that’s all right. As usual my chef was inclined to outdo himself, but I asked him to keep it plain.”

“That sounds great,” Furihata said with enthusiasm. “And for the record, all of that looks amazing.”

Akashi had to agree that even with food like riceballs and rolled omelets, his family’s chef did impeccable work. (He would have liked to try to prepare the food himself. But his schedule had been even more hectic than usual, and he didn’t quite trust himself to make a meal that met his own standards in such limited time.)

“I did insist on one thing,” Akashi said, opening the last container. He took out a tiny ketchup bottle and presented it to Furihata.

“Thanks.” Furihata grinned.

A familiar warmth filled Akashi’s chest. They said the usual word of thanks, and started to eat. Akashi kept watching Furihata, the little things he did when he ate. He couldn’t explain why he found it all so endearing—like how Furihata always added ketchup to eggs and fried rice, a deconstructed version of his favorite food. Or the way he was careful to wipe any stray grains from his face.

Akashi also gazed at the plum blossoms, as they shivered in the breeze overhead. He could sense Furihata looking at them as well.

“It’s pretty amazing, how they start to bloom in the winter,” Furihata said suddenly. “It is still winter, right? Technically.”

Akashi nodded. “Japanese tradition tends to associate them with the arrival of spring. But in Chinese art, they often symbolize winter.”

Even as he said this, the breeze quickened, and a light sprinkling of white petals drifted to the ground. The tiny flurry settled between them. Petals rested on the cloth, and among the bento containers.

“They look like snow,” Furihata said in a soft voice.

Akashi blinked. Furihata’s expression was distant, and peaceful. Strikingly different from his usual alert demeanor. Yet Akashi had seen that far-off look before. He swallowed, as a flutter worked its way from his stomach up to his chest.

Until he befriended Furihata, Akashi rarely had the chance to discuss things like plum blossoms, or symbolism, or art. He had a few friends with mutual interest in such topics—Mibuchi being the primary one—but in general, other boys were bored and even uncomfortable with those discussions. Akashi usually kept such observations short, if he voiced them at all.

Furihata always insisted he didn’t know anything about aesthetics. He was hesitant to voice his opinions, even when Akashi prompted him to do so. But he listened to Akashi’s observations, and willingly accompanied him to museums and cultural landmarks. And sometimes, in moments like this, he would say something that Akashi found, well…

Simply beautiful.

Akashi leaned forward. A stray plum blossom rested among Furihata’s windswept hair. Akashi reached out, and cupped its soft white petals. He almost expected it to be cold, to melt at his touch. The legend of Princess Shouyang and the plum blossom on her brow floated through his mind, with echoes of the poetry of Lin Bu.

_“When everything has faded, they alone shine forth…”_

Brown eyes stared up at him, unusually bright in the winter sun. Akashi could see every sliver of color in Furihata’s irises, a spectrum of malt and russet and amber. His sparse lashes fluttered rapidly.

“A-Akashi-kun?”

“Please excuse me.” Akashi jolted from his train of thought. He plucked the blossom out of Furihata’s hair, and showed it to him. “You had one on your forehead.”

“Oh. Uh. R-r-right.”

Their gazes remained locked together. Until recently, Akashi would have worried, about the way Furihata was stuttering. He would have wondered what was wrong, if he was making him uncomfortable, like he once did. He would analyze Furihata’s facial expression, the slightest change in his color. (He was reddish pink now, as deep a shade as the darkest blossoms on the trees.)

Instead, Akashi just felt like he understood.

_“How can I transform my body into millions,_

_Each enjoying the blossom by a plum tree.”_

Akashi bent his head. The flower quivered as it fell between his fingers. Furihata’s mouth opened, and then shut again. Akashi felt every inch of space between them like a winding thread, pulling tighter and tighter.

He wanted to draw Furihata into his arms. To clasp the side of his face, and pull him into a kiss. He wanted to feel Furihata’s skin, pressing against his palm, chilled with the winter air. To feel him close, to touch him.

And because Akashi wanted it, in a way that was almost painful… He drew back.

He sat back on his heels, with the same space between them as before. He took a breath. Furihata was combing his hand through his hair, looking at the ground.

Akashi chided himself. Once again, he had managed to change the atmosphere from pleasant to awkward. He should apologize. Explain. Something.

“I have a gift for you,” he said instead.

Furihata looked up. “Uh… Oh. Yeah?”

Akashi nodded, more to clear his head than anything. “It’s the reason I asked to see you today, in fact.”

“Oh.” Furihata looked a little pale now. Akashi would have wondered why, but he was too busy opening the wicker basket again. A box lay at the bottom, and he took it out. It was wrapped in white paper, with a silver bow.

He held it out to Furihata, trying to will his heart to stop pounding. “Here you are. It’s for White Day.”

_… Obviously, Seijuurou. What else would it be?_ He wanted to roll his eyes at himself, but he refrained.

“Thanks.” Furihata’s fingers caught more than once as he untied the bow, and fumbled when removing the lid. His eyes widened as he looked inside. “Wow.”

Akashi’s heart gave a heavy thump. “I hope it’s all right.”

“Did you make this?” Furihata said.

Akashi nodded again. “I wanted to give you something as similar to what you gave me as possible.”

Furihata made an odd sound, something halfway between a laugh and a squeak.

“Wow,” he said again. He lifted the white chocolate heart out of the box. “This is amazing. And it’s way better than what I made. Did you seriously write this in frosting? I swear you can do anything.” He shook his head.

“I hardly think it’s an accomplishment,” Akashi protested. “It’s just your name. And that was my third attempt.”

“It's still amazing.” Furihata’s smile was genuine. Akashi still marveled sometimes, at how Furihata truly didn’t seem to mind when he believed Akashi had outdone him. “Thanks. It really looks awesome. Can I try some?”

“Please,” Akashi said. “I hope the taste is acceptable.”

“Somehow I bet it is,” Furihata said, as he broke off a piece of the heart. He popped it into his mouth, and his eyes shone. “Yeah. Delicious.”

Eagerly, he broke off another piece of chocolate, and returned the rest of the heart to its box. Akashi watched with satisfaction as Furihata ate the second piece, and then proceeded to lick his fingers.

“I’m very glad you like it,” Akashi said. “I must concede a certain measure of defeat, however. Yours tasted far better than mine.”

“What?” Furihata looked up mid-lick. “No way. Did you even try this?”

“I sampled it. But I much preferred yours,” Akashi said truthfully.

Furihata looked almost confused. The flush returned to his face.

“Well, uh, thanks,” he said. “And thanks for all of this.” He gestured to the lunch leftovers, and the flowers overheard. “I’m having a great time.”

“Are you?” Akashi said, not bothering to mask his relief. “I have to admit, I was concerned this arrangement was too simplistic. I was trying to plan an outing that would be… normal. For lack of a better word.”

Furihata blinked. His mouth twitched at the corners.

“Oh. I get it.” He chuckled. “Yeah, this is fun. It’s great spending time with you. But just so you know, I don’t think anything you do is normal.”

Akashi’s heart dropped a little—only to soar, when a smile bloomed on Furihata’s face.

“I would never want you to be,” he said.

A sudden feeling of lightness spread through Akashi’s body. It felt almost like he was floating. He slid his fingers beneath Furihata’s coat collar, and tugged him closer. Then he kissed him, gently. Akashi meant for it to be on the cheek—but it landed halfway on Furihata’s mouth instead.

Then the next thing Akashi knew, Furihata’s mouth was pressed against his. A shiver pierced his chest. Their lips moved together, slowly. Akashi wound his arms around Furihata’s back, and he was vaguely aware that Furihata had an arm around him too.

As they kissed, their mouths opened gradually. Furihata’s tongue flicked at Akashi’s lower lip. Which was when Akashi tasted it…

The sweet, milky flavor of white chocolate.

A murmur of pleasure uncoiled in his throat. He pulled Furihata even closer, and skimmed his tongue over Furihata’s sugarcoated teeth. Furihata let out a hushed sound, a muffled sort of gasp, and wound his fingers through Akashi’s hair. And Akashi understood, because he could hardly breathe himself, his chest was so tight.

And that craving from before was only increasing. To be as close as he could to Furihata, to feel him, to touch and hold and even taste him…

It was a novel sensation, for a person who couldn’t especially recall feeling that way before.

Somewhere in all of this, Akashi came to realize that he was sitting in a public park, kissing a boy, just a little while after telling him, _“It might be nice to have some privacy.”_ Really, the whole thing was somewhat… unseemly. Not to mention out of character, for someone who prided himself on his manners and his self-control. Akashi finally managed to pull back from Furihata (though not as much as he had intended).

“I’m sorry,” he said. “That was rude of me. I should have asked first. To kiss you. And we don’t have to—that is, I believe I may have given you the wrong impression before. I didn’t invite you to come here for… for _this_ …”

He couldn’t quite bring himself to state the matter directly. He glanced at their surroundings, but they were alone.

Furihata gaped at him. His eyelids wavered, like they were caught on the wind.

“Uh, right.” He sounded breathless. “I… I didn’t think that, actually.” He lowered his gaze. “Well, I kind of did? B-but then I realized that wasn’t like you at all. So don’t worry. I know you don’t think about this stuff as much as I do.”

Akashi opened his mouth, but he wasn’t certain how to respond to that. It was true that he didn’t tend to fantasize about physical intimacy. He had told Furihata as much before. He tried to gather his thoughts, to determine what to say…

It was odd, how his brain felt so muddled at the moment.

“I think I was just hoping for it,” Furihata said suddenly, to Akashi’s surprise. “Because, um… I do think about that kind of stuff. A lot. And I really like, um… b-being close to you? You know. In that way.”

Furihata’s face was redder than ever. His mouth crooked upward, in a way that made Akashi want to kiss him again.

“A-anyway, I don’t want you to feel like you have to!” he added in a rushed tone. “I just really like it when you do. So if you ever feel up to it, go ahead. Honestly, a kiss from you is a pretty amazing gift, all by itself.”

Furihata stared at the ground, stumbling over each word. A glowing warmth flooded Akashi’s chest. It contrasted sharply with the icy breeze on his face.

“Was that what you were trying to say before?” he said, recalling their café date a month ago. “When you said I could repay you by sharing my affections?”

Furihata bunched up his shoulders, looking sheepish. “Um… yeah. Partly.”

“I see,” Akashi said, thinking. He cupped his hand to Furihata’s wind-chilled face. “Well, I’m happy to do it. As I’ve mentioned in the past.”

He drew closer and bent his head, so that his mouth was beside Furihata’s ear.

“And you should know that I’ve been feeling the same way about you,” he murmured.

A visible shiver ran through Furihata’s neck and shoulders. It echoed deep within Akashi, between his ribs and down his spine. He kissed Furihata beside the ear, and brushed his lips across Furihata’s cheek. Then their mouths were melding together again, and Akashi found himself forgetting that this was impolite, that someone might see them. Instead he simply gave in, to these new urges he couldn’t explain, and to the curious emotions that were growing, each time he saw Furihata.

But all the while, a part of Akashi knew that this situation was profoundly unwise. That he couldn’t be happier, in moments like this… Yet this happiness was something far beyond his ability to control or understand. Which meant that he couldn’t contain it, or tuck it away inside its proper box. And so a part of him whispered, like it always did, _“You should put a stop to this. Before it’s too late.”_

But Akashi didn’t heed the warning. He kept kissing Furihata instead, enjoying Furihata’s pleasure and his own, there beneath the snow-white plum blossoms.

_“One plum blossom_

_Brings us just one more_

_Step to the warmth.”_

**Author's Note:**

> There are lots of references in this fic to Japanese traditions for Valentine's Day (such as the existence of White Day, and [nama chocolate](http://www.justonecookbook.com/nama-chocolate/)). Also to plum blossoms, which used to be even more popular than cherry blossoms in ancient Japanese culture (because Akashi is a nerd, haha). They're also very popular in Chinese art and poetry, so this fic includes a few lines by the Chinese poet Lin Bu (who was pretty famously obsessed with plum flowers). The reference to Princess Shouyang, "goddess of the plum blossom," comes from a legend about a plum blossom falling onto her forehead and supposedly starting a well-known trend in Chinese court makeup. You can read about that [here](http://www.womenofchina.cn/html/report/98885-1.htm). Meanwhile, the haiku at the end is by Hattori Ransetsu, translated by Gabi Greve.
> 
> I also rambled about some of the things in this fic [on my Tumblr](http://courtingstars.tumblr.com/post/146689127517/random-notes-on-that-fic-i-just-posted), for anyone who might be interested.
> 
> As always, thanks so much for reading!


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